"The Alchemists' Guild Hall?" Better not to ask. The name was more out of place than the building itself. Aegon even couldn't help but suspect he had transmigrated into a game world. "What do they do? Can alchemists use magic?"
"You must have heard the other two terms: Pyromancers, and Wildfire." Tyrion shrugged. Seeing Aegon rein in his horse, he had no choice but to stop along with Jack and Maurice. "What's wrong? That's not something fun."
Aegon turned his head back. "If I want to visit, can I go in?"
"Yes, it's very easy to get in. The Pyromancers used to be the favorites of the Targaryen, but now they are so down and out that anyone can kick them and spit on them." Tyrion shrugged. "As long as you have some money, you can get in. If it weren't for the fact that there's too much Wildfire underground that can't be dealt with, do you think this building could still stand here? But the people inside are quite neurotic... Well, they're also quite pitiful. Falling from heaven to hell all of a sudden, that's these people."
"Let's go take a look."
Tyrion frowned strangely, but having gotten used to Aegon's character of suddenly wanting to do something, he didn't ask further. He laboriously climbed down from his custom-made saddle and stood beside Aegon with his two attendants.
...
"How do we get in?"
"Through the main door."
Aegon rolled his eyes. "The main door is closed."
Tyrion rolled them back. "Do you know how to knock?"
That simple? Maurice stayed behind to guard the four horses. The remaining three walked up a few steps and knocked on the wooden door that looked like it hadn't been opened in decades.
Faster than expected... In fact, much faster. The door creaked open, and a shifty-eyed old man, several times more lecherous than Will, poked his head out.
"What do you want? Come to buy that substance?"
"Yes." Tyrion patted his coin pouch, and the golden dragons and silver stags made a crisp clinking sound.
So the door opened wider. "Come in, why are you wearing so little?"
What did he mean? Aegon was puzzled, but seeing Tyrion's confident look, he didn't ask and just followed. Soon, he realized they were going the wrong way. This wasn't the way upstairs... to the kindergarten... they were going down.
"What should I call you?" Tyrion asked the old man who opened the door.
"Please call me Sage Dark," the old man said proudly. "How much do you want?"
"Ask my friend here, he's curious about Wildfire."
How much of what? Aegon's mind was a mess. Who was he, where was he, what was he doing?
Oh, he was currently the Night's Watch Chief Quartermaster, Aegon Westerling, in the Alchemists' Guild Hall, wanting to learn about this thing called Wildfire.
But, listening to the conversation between Tyrion and Sage Dark, that mysterious forgiveness-colored liquid in his mind could actually be bought and sold as freely as wine?
This was liquid dynamite!
"Huh... wearing black clothes, who died in your family? Using that substance to cremate bodies is a good idea."
Aegon's face immediately fell. "I am a Night's Watchman, you ask too many questions. Just tell me about 'that substance'."
"Alright, alright, you people are like curious little squirrels, asking questions all day long." Sage Dark muttered, as if worriedly reminding Tyrion, "I'll tell him about that substance, but you have to buy at least ten silver stags' worth."
"Do you know who I am?" Tyrion asked him curiously. "Do you know that the money in my family could buy the entire Alchemists' Guild?"
The old man stared at Tyrion for a while without speaking. From his suspicious expression, Aegon came to a surprising conclusion: this guy really didn't know Tyrion, and probably hadn't even heard of a Dwarf named Lannister.
But anyway, Tyrion's lines and aura, like a country bumpkin millionaire, still intimidated the old man. He stopped chattering, picked up an oil lamp hanging on the wall, and began his introduction while leading the three of them down the stairs.
"Do you know about Dragons?" Dark's opening was quite engaging. "Terrifying Dragons, who can cover the sky with their wings and burn everything in the world with a single breath. Where does their ability to breathe fire come from?"
"Magic?"
"No, it's an organ in their chest." The old man who called himself Sage shook his head. "This organ is constantly secreting a magical substance. When fire is needed, the organ contracts and squeezes out the liquid. After being accelerated and atomized by an organ in its mouth, and then ignited with a bit of magic, Dragonflame is produced."
"What does this have to do with Wildfire? Is it that substance produced inside the Dragon's body?" Aegon frowned, and his mind instantly added drama to the Alchemists' Guild: every jar of Wildfire produced meant a hatchling Dragon was slaughtered. No buying and selling means no killing. Boycott Wildfire, start with me!
Could it be that the extinction of Dragons was due to excessive collection of Wildfire?
This was impossible, of course. Leaving aside whether Dragons had the ability to secrete so much forgiveness-colored liquid, even if they did, humans could certainly obtain the liquid in a more "gentle" way—like bear bile.
What Aegon was concerned about now was: how could this important military material, this great weapon, be traded as freely as selling wine? And judging by Dark's humble attitude, it seemed to be unsalable and stuck in inventory.
...
"No, no, that substance is not produced inside Dragons. We just got inspiration from that liquid and invented that substance with the help of technology and magic."
"Can't you just say 'Wildfire' instead of 'that substance'?" Aegon couldn't help it. Having Jaqen pretending to be clueless was enough; now there was a Pyromancer too. It was just too much.
"'Wildfire' is what laymen call it!" The old man looked very angry. "It's not wild; it can be controlled. As long as safety measures are taken and some fire magic is mastered..."
"Can you use fire magic?" Tyrion snorted disdainfully. "If Wildfire could be controlled, the one sitting on the Iron Throne would still be a Targaryen, and your 'that substance' wouldn't have fallen to this price. It would be a controlled national treasure!"
Dark was speechless again, mumbling a few words sheepishly, and just continued leading Aegon and the other two down the stairs into the underground.
Soon, Aegon understood why Dark had asked "why are you wearing so little" when they first met. After walking through the hall and entering the stairs leading to the cellar, the surrounding temperature plummeted. The power of the basement effect seemed particularly obvious here. If it was thirty degrees outside, it was now ten degrees here. Before reaching the bottom, Aegon already felt goosebumps.
Finally, they finished the steps and arrived in a corridor. Aegon's teeth were chattering from the cold. If not for his curiosity and strong purpose, he would have immediately returned to the upper level.
It was pitch black all around with no light at all. The damp stone walls were covered in saltpeter. The only light source came from the sealed iron-barred glass oil lamp that Sage Dark was carefully carrying.
The actual length was probably a few dozen meters, but it felt like they had walked for half a century. Dark stopped in front of a door that looked very heavy, handed the oil lamp to Aegon, took out a key, and opened the door.
"Don't come in!" the old man suddenly shouted. "Stay at the door, the light and temperature might make this substance unstable!"
Aegon quickly stopped, holding the oil lamp. He finally understood why this stuff couldn't be used openly: if Wildfire was so unstable that even an oil lamp enclosed in glass could be dangerous, how could it possibly be practical?!
Using the faint oil lamp light that shone into the room beyond the door, Aegon saw that the opened room was filled with shelves, which were full of fiery red round jars, like rows of ceramic fat pomelos.
"Come here and help." Dark stood in front of a shelf and waved back at the three of them.
Aegon quickly handed the oil lamp to Jack behind him, walked forward, and held the jar in the Pyromancer's hand.
"Be gentle, the ceramic jar is thin."
Dark took out a small bottle, confirmed with the Night's Watchman that he wanted to buy ten silver stags' worth of Wildfire, and then held the jar and began to pour.
The "Wildfire" slowly flowed towards the bottle opening, appearing deep greenish-blue under the light of the dim oil lamp outside the door, with a texture somewhat like honey.
"Don't touch it with your hand, body temperature can also make this substance unstable."
"Body temperature can ignite it too?" Aegon was so scared he almost let go and dropped the jar. This damn stuff could only be used in real combat in a ghost story.
"It's not that exaggerated... At least so far, there are no records of body temperature igniting Wildfire." Dark was also a bit embarrassed, explaining with a wry smile, "But the older this substance is, the easier it is to ignite. For the sake of your little life, it's better to be cautious."
...
Soon, the container, slightly larger than a 500ml cola bottle, was filled. Dark insisted that the amount in the bottle was worth more than ten silver stags, but the extra part was a gift. After paying, Aegon thus effortlessly obtained a bottle of terrifying liquid fuel.
"I am very interested in this stuff, Sage Dark." Aegon carefully put away the bottle as instructed, took out a business card, and handed it to the old man. "If you have time, please come to the Night's Watch Office within two days to find me. It's right across from the East Camp of the King's Landing City Watch. We can discuss a big business deal."
--